


Creature Comforts

by AeschylusRex



Category: RWBY
Genre: F/F, fun sexy times above the arctic circle, light mentions of pet play, relationship building
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-12
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2019-06-26 10:08:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15661056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AeschylusRex/pseuds/AeschylusRex
Summary: Miles above the arctic circle, Blake discovers a new fantasy she is rather embarrassed to reveal.





	Creature Comforts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Winged (WingedVictory)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WingedVictory/gifts).



> 8.12.18  
> Hi everyone! I'm back with another RWBY fic! Months and months ago, before I got sick, a friend of mine commissioned me to write this story, and now that it's finally finished I would like to thank her sincerely for all of her support along the way.  
> Enjoy!

It was a cool, quiet summer night in the arctic wilderness of Mantel and Blake was wide awake, hanging in a camouflaged tent off the side of a cliff 10 miles west of Kummervol. The hazy, midnight sun lay about the horizon between bands of dark clouds, casting orange rays across the choppy bay. Rough surf pounded relentlessly against the rocky beach far below, and the stiff breeze carried with it the funk of gull droppings and sea rot. It was a precarious spot. Blake was supposed to be alert and focused on her surroundings, but she was engrossed in a rather tawdry new book.

“What even…?” she muttered, under her breath, as she turned the page.

She’d picked it up off the back shelf at a little train station bookstore, hardly bothering to check the jacket or the contents. The cover had been flashy enough, and she’d been in a hurry anyway. The only other member of team RWBY who had any patience for bookshops was Weiss. Putting Ruby and Yang together in a quiet, dusty room was like shaking a bottle of soda and expecting it not to explode.

Blake read on as she turned another page. The plot was absurd. The characters, a middle aged businesswoman and her young, faunus secretary, were so archetypal that cardboard cutouts would have been more compelling, and yet she couldn’t put it down. Something very interesting was happening in this chapter.

_Lydia gasped when the cool leather strap slid into place around her neck. Director Silver cinched the collar tight as she did up the buckle, and it drew a gasp from Lydia’s throat. She peered up into Silver’s dark brown eyes and wet her lips. They’d done only this much, but already she was hopelessly excited._

_“W-what if we get caught, Director?” Lydia stammered, breathlessly, glancing toward the office door._

_Director Silver smiled coldly as she fingered the golden, engraved dog tag hanging from Lydia’s new collar. “My subordinates know better than to disturb me while my door is shut.”_

_The woman reached up to stroke Lydia’s soft, tawny ears. Lydia moaned and tried desperately to keep her tail from wagging, but it was no use. Silver’s smile grew predatory._

_“Now, let’s begin our training session, shall we?”_

_“Yes, Director.”_

_“Heel, Lydia,” the director ordered, and Lydia swallowed, but she got down on her knees and obeyed. “Now, lick,” the director commanded, lifting the hem of her skirt._

_Lydia’s cheeks flushed hot and red, but she reached for the waistband of the director’s underwear and tugged until the garment slid to the floor. Then, she licked._

“Holy shit,” Blake murmured, letting the book fall onto her chest.

Her heart was hammering and her body was flushed, covered in goosebumps. She shook her head to try to rid herself of the fever, but it wasn’t very effective. She felt weird. She felt guilty. No member of the White Fang should be reading pet play smut, especially with the way faunus had been so fetishized in human media over the years. It was utterly degrading.

And yet...

Blake turned over in her mummy bag. She was curled up next to Yang, on watch because one of them had to be, and because, while safer than the scrubby tundra up above, the bluffs were still riddled with razor-toothed raptors. Deep, orange-hued sunlight glowed through the tent’s waterproof flysheet and it was enough for Blake to read by, but her eyes had grown tired and dry. She peered up at the security feed being projected in from outside. The little holoscreen flickered every time the breeze picked up, another repair to make when they got back to Atlas.

She reached up and grabbed the hanging dongle, thumbing the joystick to rotate the camera outside in a panoramic arc. Nothing piqued her interest, however. She stopped when she spotted Kummervol down the coastline, at this distance just a ring of lights hugging the steep edges of Skelett Bay. The sky was clear and the weather was fair. Their hack-and-slash campaign earlier in the day had left the local Grimm wary, and the steep cliff kept them out of sight. So long as the raptors minded their own business, the night would likely stay quiet.

Blake released the joystick and flopped back down, propping an arm under her head. Feverish thoughts swirled around her head. She was tired, but restless. The tent walls seemed to grow closer with every passing second and the mummy bag felt too constricting. The ocean air was chilly, even at the height of the arctic summer, but it wasn’t enough to cool her down. A slow, steady throb had started up between her legs, and, ashamed as she was to admit it, Blake knew that only one thing would make it stop.

“This is a terrible idea,” she muttered to herself.

A large wave crashed against the rocks below, reminding her yet again of the precariousness of their camping spot. Beside her, Yang didn’t so much as stir in her sleep. Blake tried to slow her heavy breathing, tried to meditate, tried to take her thoughts elsewhere, but nothing worked. Nothing could purge the image in her mind, clear as day, of Yang’s fingers curling under a collar around her neck, knuckles against her throat, tugging Blake forward on her hands and knees toward her-

“Fuck!” Blake rasped, thrashing in frustration as she unzipped her mummy bag, jostling the tent.

Her whole body was throbbing. The bits between her legs were so swollen it actually hurt. She was going to have to take care of this, and right next to a sleeping, oblivious Yang, too. God, the embarrassment.

She’d only just resigned herself to her fate and begun trying to maneuver her hand under the climbing harness strapped around her waist, when Yang inhaled sharply beside her.

“Mmph… Babe?” A hand reached out in the twilight, searching for contact. “You awake?”

Blake froze. “Uhhh, hey,” she managed.

Yang’s eyes blinked open and she yawned, then arched her back to stretch. Blake knew that averting her eyes was probably the best choice, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it, not with the way Yang’s strong biceps and deltoids were straining.

“It’s my turn for watch,” Yang explained after a few seconds, lifting her scroll to turn off the vibrating alarm.

Blake hadn’t even noticed the sound of it. She’d been too absorbed in her own fantasies.

“Oh,” she murmured. “Right.”

“You okay?” Yang asked, sleepily. “You sound weird. Are you claustrophobic again?”

Blake’s stomach performed a messy backflip. As stealthily as possible, she tried to slip her hand free from the waistband of her long johns, but she had thrown her sleeping bag open, leaving her body foolishly exposed, and Yang was nothing if not perceptive. She noticed.

Her violet eyes widened, then darkened.

“Having a midnight snack without me?” she asked, in a voice much huskier than before.

Blake squirmed. “You were exhausted earlier. I didn’t want to wake you up.”

Yang reached out and sank the fingers of her bionic hand into Blake’s hair, then pulled from the back of her head until their mouths were pressed together in a smothering kiss. Blake whimpered and exhaled through her nose. Her free, unpinned hand flew up to grasp at Yang’s face. Her hips undulated slowly .

“What’s got you all wound up?” Yang asked, breaking away for air.

Even as she asked she was reaching down between them to unzip her mummy bag. Blake tried desperately to hide how affected she was. It was difficult, though, when she was more or less panting against Yang’s lips. Yang kicked her sleeping bag open, unveiling the muscular body underneath. Her black performance tights were tucked into a pair of moisture-wicking socks. The hem of her long, green, flannel shirt covered the straps of her red climbing harness, and she was still wearing her woolen purple buff around her neck. These cold Atlesian missions required a heavier sort of dress than Yang usually bothered with, but Blake had been surprised to find she liked it. She liked unwrapping the layers. She liked the present hidden underneath.

Blake reached out to finger the top button of Yang’s shirt. “Do I need a reason to be wound up? I have a sexy girlfriend.”

“So, it has nothing to do with this book?” Yang teased, smirking, plucking the forgotten novel off Blake’s lap. “Oh, see? The cover’s black and red. That usually means they’re extra filthy.”

Blake swiped at it, but Yang only held it further out of reach and winked. The tent rocked with the motion of their struggle, causing Blake’s stomach to clench. She didn’t like being so high up without a solid handhold.

Laughing, Yang began to read out loud from the the middle of the page, enunciating each word with theatrical flair, but she quickly trailed off as she reached some of the bits Blake had been more than a little embarrassed about. Her eyes continued to flick across the page in silence while Blake’s cheeks burned, held at bay by one of Yang’s hands pressed flat against her breastbone.

“Whoa,” Yang murmured, as she reached the end of the passage.

She set the book aside and turned her curious gaze on Blake, who was, by this time, practically rigid with mortification.

“I wasn’t aware…” Yang started, pausing to clear her throat. “Um, I wasn’t aware you were into this sort of thing.”

“I’m not,” Blake denied. “I picked the book up by accident.”

Yang arched a dubious brow, and, in a blink, had reached down with her human hand to cup between Blake’s legs. The touch was a shock. Blake whimpered as sparks of pleasure filled her body. The instinctual, physical response was too obvious to contain. Even she could smell herself as Yang’s index finger ran along the seam of her sweatpants, pressing in briefly before retreating again.

“Liar. You’re scorching hot down here,” Yang said, leaning down to kiss her words into Blake’s neck. “I can practically feel how wet you are through your pants.”

“Fuck,” Blake whispered, head lolling to the side.

Yang’s teeth dug into the juncture of her neck and shoulder before giving way to a pair of soft lips. Blake shivered, savoring the ache, twisting into the sensation, and Yang, who had developed an uncanny intuition for Blake’s triggers, nipped again and again, marking a trail up to Blake’s pulse point, drawing a chorus of breathy little notes from the back of her throat. Blake wasn’t aware she could sound so...musical.

“What if we did a bit of experimenting tonight?” Yang asked between kisses. “Would you be up for it?”

Blake started to respond, but all that left her mouth was a breathy moan. The hand between her legs had begun to stroke languidly up the seam of her long johns, and Yang’s mouth was wandering aimlessly down her collar. Blake, who normally held her own in these encounters, found that she was too keyed up to worry about such trivial things as embarrassment and propriety. She was sweating, flushing hot and cold. Her stomach muscles were taut, toes curled.

Yang pulled away and grinned down at her, violet eyes flashing bright. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’,” she said eagerly, then rolled over and began rifling through her backpack.

Blake tried to catch her breath, but she was winded. She felt like she’d been sprinting and come to a sudden stop. Had she ever been this pathetically dismantled by a bit of foreplay before?

“What are you looking for?” she asked, trying to peek over Yang’s shoulder.

“You’ll see,” Yang said, waving her away. “Give me just a- oh. Aha!” Yang shifted back around with a beaming smile. “Found it!”

“Found what?” Blake replied, blinking, before spying the wadded up length of black, nylon strap in Yang’s hand.

“It’s one of those extra extendy bits for my pack,” Yang explained, nearly giddy in her excitement.

Wasting no time, Yang hoisted herself up and carefully swung her legs over Blake’s hips, effectively straddling her and pinning her in one. The tent floor bowed, shifting precariously with their weight, and Blake swallowed thickly. She was quickly distracted, however, as Yang’s metal hand fisted in the front of her shirt, pulling her upright to meet an eager pair of lips. Just like that they were kissing again, and it felt too good, too right, like two pieces of a puzzle fitting together. Yang swiped with her tongue and nipped with her teeth. Blake’s body burned hotter. Her mind climbed higher. She nearly forgot about the black strap and its sordid implications.

That is, until it was sliding into place around her throat.

Blake gasped as the pieces of the plastic buckle clipped together with a loud snap. How Yang had managed to do that without looking, all while enthusiastically sucking on her tongue, was a mystery, but Blake couldn’t help being impressed. Yang broke the kiss to focus on the fumbling of her fingers, which were now struggling to synch the strap tighter.

“Hang on, almost got it… There!”

Blake shivered and let her eyes roll back into her head. The pressure against her throat was indescribably intoxicating, made even more so by the knowledge it was Yang who had put it there, had retained her grip on the superfluous bit of strap trailing out the end of the buckle like a leash. Had she been standing, Blake’s knees might have given out beneath her. Yang, for her part, seemed entranced. She curled her fingers under the front of the collar, inadvertently recreating the scene from Blake’s fantasy, and tugged gently to test the pull. Blake’s spine arched. A high, rasping note escaped her mouth, spooling into the air between them.

Yang’s muscles coiled, her breath quickened.

She pushed Blake down onto her back and kissed her with vampiric ferocity, biting her tongue, chewing her lips, raking her human hand down Blake’s front and side. Her fingers snagged on Blake’s nipples through her thermal shirt and Blake jerked into the touch with a moan.

“No bra?” Yang gasped. “That’s bold of you. What were you gonna do if we had to spring into action?”

“Suck it up,” Blake managed, between breaths. “It was chafing.”

“Well, if you didn’t buy them so tight…” Blake gave Yang a look, who was quick to reassure her. “Hey, I’m not complaining, kitty cat. It’s a nice surprise.”

Normally, the nickname drew nothing but an irritated eye roll from Blake, but tonight it drew something else to the surface entirely. Her yellow eyes flickered, fearful and yearning as they searched Yang’s. This was territory Blake had never ventured into, not even under the thumb of Adam’s creative sadism. Her body was responding, and she didn’t yet fully understand why.

Yang leaned down and pressed a kiss behind Blake’s ear, lingering just a hair’s breadth away. A spark of something passed between them. Blake felt goosebumps erupt like needles along her skin, climbing up her back in a rash.

“Do you like it when I call you ‘kitty cat’?” Yang murmured.

Blake’s breath caught in her throat. Her hips were grinding ever so slightly into Yang’s and she hadn’t even noticed. She hadn’t even given them permission to move.

A sharp tug at her makeshift collar dragged her out of her thoughts. “Hey. I asked you a question.”

“Yes,” Blake hissed

Yang hummed her delight, licking a path up over the outer edge of Blake’s ear. The stroke of her tongue fizzled and burned. Blake tried not to squirm. In the end, she couldn’t help herself. It was almost too much. It was almost too good.

“Do you like wearing my collar?” Yang whispered.

Blake paused. Some little bit of pride was restraining her, and she couldn’t bring herself to answer.

“I…”

Yang adjusted the arm she had propped her weight on, maneuvering so she could wind the fingers of her bionic hand into Blake’s hair, stroking very deliberately over her feline ears. Blake felt the tug on her scalp and moaned. The muscles between her legs clenched on nothing.

“Do you want a tag with my name on it?” Yang whispered again, breath tickling Blake’s ear. “Do you wanna be mine?”

Blake’s restraint snapped like a dry twig. “Oh my fucking-... Yang!”

“Well, do you?”

“Yes, okay?! Yes! _God_.”

Yang bared a predatory smile. “Feels good to be honest, right?”

Blake’s nails dug like claws into Yang’s back. The hand in her hair moved down to her neck and slipped under the material of her makeshift collar. Blunt nails scraped gently against her skin. The collar had been tight already, but now it was taught, and Blake was starting to pant, excited, confused, and afraid all at once.

Stroking down the length of Blake’s writhing body, Yang’s hand returned to the mess between Blake’s thighs, palm pressing in hard. Blake rose to the touch as if on strings. Spots filled her vision. A desperate sound, more feral growl than moan, burst from deep within her chest.

“I love it when you get loud,” Yang said breathlessly, cheeks flushed.

She bent her head and attached her mouth to Blake’s nipple through her shirt. Electricity buzzed in Blake’s teeth, shooting all the way down to her toes, concentrated under the pressure of Yang’s steady hand on her core. She clawed at the back of Yang’s flannel, but couldn’t free it from the confines of her climbing harness. Pulling on Yang’s hair seemed only to increase the intensity of her oral ministrations. Within a minute the material of Blake’s shirt was soaked through, and Yang had taken to using her tongue. Worse, the fabric barrier had amplified Blake’s sensitivity, so that every creative swirl of Yang’s tongue set her teetering on the edge of oblivion.

“Yang,” she moaned, tugging harder at blonde hair. “Babe, _come on_.”

Yang’s mouth dislodged, and the expression on her face was as intense as any Blake had ever seen, gold in the light of the arctic’s perpetual sunset. “Tell me what you need.”

“You _know_ what I need.”

Yang was undeterred. “Use your words. I wanna hear you.”

Blake swallowed. She wasn’t a dirty talker. Ordinarily, she detested the baser impulses of sex, the tropes, the gaudy shops, the silly leather getups and toys. Sometimes she hated that she needed sex at all, that there was, in addition to everything else, one more tether binding her to Yang. But she couldn’t walk away from this. She had done it once, and she wasn’t strong enough to do it again. Yang had ensnared her so completely she would never escape the trap. She didn’t even want to, and because of that, she was torn.

Yang saw the apprehension cross her face and softened. She plucked at the waistband of Blake’s pants and slipped her fingers underneath. Her touch was teasing, but gentle. Her eyes had turned patient, understanding. It was this that had finally coaxed Blake off the wall and into a relationship all those months ago. Yang wasn’t Adam. It needed to be said.  

“What if I tell you what _I_ need?” Yang asked, quietly, searching Blake’s gaze.

Blake swallowed and nodded. Just once. Her hands were knotted into quivering fists in Yang’s shirt. Yang bent down to kiss her lips, softly, but not chastely, and Blake’s body responded immediately. It felt so good when Yang kissed her and touched her. Nothing had ever felt so good before. It was terrifying. Blake knew the pain of withdrawal, and always, it was harder to return to the cold once her heart had warmed.

“I need to touch you,” Yang said, very seriously, with a voice that rasped like sand blowing over dry rocks. “I need to _feel you_. I need to feel you when you come. I need to hear the sounds you make, and I need to be as close to you as possible, because I fucking love you, Blake, and I can’t get close enough.”

Blake gasped, and as she did so, the air she inhaled seem to clear her chest, like a wind blowing away the fog of doubt. She let her hands fall from Yang’s shirt and cupped her lover’s face, yielding to her desires.

“I fucking love you, too,” she said, holding Yang’s gaze. “And right now, I… I need you to fuck me.”

A broad grin spread slowly across Yang’s face. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Her fingers descended the remaining distance to Blake’s center and slipped into her folds with such embarrassing ease Blake had to close her eyes, had to kiss Yang’s lips to muffle the moan that worked its way up from the bottom of her lungs. She was extremely wet. That much was painfully obvious. Yang’s touch slipped up and down, and the sound it made was positively indecent. Blake felt the heat rising to her face, but her embarrassment was fleeting. Her divided attention was growing increasingly singular as every nerve ending in her body started to tingle. Her spine felt like a livewire. Each swirling pass of Yang’s fingers over her clit sent her into minor convulsions.

Yang bit into her neck without warning, tugging at the collar with her teeth, and Blake’s hands cast about wildly for a hold, finally landing in Yang’s hair. The rhythm of Yang’s hand against Blake’s cunt grew in urgency as it waned in precision. Blake could feel herself teetering on the edge already, keyed up and teased to the point of breaking.

She came just seconds later, shifting her hips to press her clit hard into Yang’s fingers. She moaned, high and quiet, as waves of ecstacy washed over her, and Yang groaned in response. Her head fell forward onto her Blake’s shoulders. Her fingers slipped lower along Blake’s slit and slipped deftly inside her.

“Oh!” Blake’s eyes flew open, muscles tensing, squeezing Yang like a vise.

“Too much?” Yang murmured.

“No. No, I-” Blake gasped and unconsciously rolled her hips. “Oh, _fuck_.”

It was two fingers, of that much she was sure, and Yang’s fingers were as long as they were skillful. Blake felt the stretch, felt the beautiful friction when they withdrew and slowly pushed back in.

“Good?” Yang asked.

“Good,” Blake affirmed breathlessly. “More.”

Yang obliged with enthusiasm, and Blake pumped her body to meet the next the thrust. And the next. And the next. A new pressure was building, climbing in waves. She hadn’t even ridden out the last orgasm, was still tingling from the aftershocks, still clenching around Yang, and already the next was looming like a tsunami. She shivered and twisted, seeking escape even as she pressed down harder into Yang’s hand.

The tent shuddered and rocked. Blake’s chest had grown heavy. Each gasping breath was an effort. There wasn’t enough air in all of Mantel to satisfy her body’s demand, and Yang, who seemed to sense she was close, grew frantic. Her thrusts grew wilder and more enthusiastic, fingers curling, hitting Blake’s G spot with merciless precision. Beads of sweat had broken out along Yang’s brow. She matched each of Blake’s moans with a labored grunt of her own, and her body was shaking. She smeared kisses along Blake’s clavicle as they rocked together.

When Blake’s eyes flew open, when her back arched and her body froze, Yang held her breath. They were balanced on the precipice, bodies intertwined, and they tipped over the cliff’s edge together.

Blake cried out and Yang bit into her shoulder. The convulsions shook them for almost a whole minute, and when Blake finally began her descent, she was too exhausted to speak, too exhausted even to peel back her sweaty eyelids.

They lay in silence together for some minutes, listening to the waves crash against the rocky beach down below.

At last, Yang removed her hand and adjusted herself at Blake’s side. “So… how was it for you?”

Unexpected laughter bubbled up in Blake’s throat. She opened her eyes to glance over at her lover, baring an exhausted smile.

“You really have to ask?”

Yang’s grin was as radiant as the orange sun outside. “It was pretty good for me, too. I think I’m going to buy us a real collar when we get back to the city.”

Blake was too satisfied to feel embarrassed. “Okay.”

“Would you object to a tail? You know, just to complete the look.”

“ _Yang_.”

“Kidding! Only kidding.” Yang leaned over and kissed her cheek, lingering close to catch Blake’s gaze. “Hey. I love you.”

Blake’s heart swelled to bursting. There wasn’t enough room to hold all that she felt for Yang and it was starting to spill over into other places, filling up the cracks and the crevices she’d grown so accustomed to over the years. It was a good pain. A good ache.

She reached out and took Yang’s sticky hand, lacing their fingers together. “I love you, too.”

“Promise you’ll tell me your other kinks?”

Blake smirked. “No promises.”

“Aww.” Yang pretended to pout. “Well, finding out your secrets is half the fun of it, I guess. I’ll just have to run some experiments.”

She grinned and Blake laughed. She smiled even as Yang retrieved the forgotten book, flipping through more of the pages, perusing for secrets. Maybe it was okay to be tethered, she thought. Maybe it was okay to reach for happiness. Blake closed her eyes and let the currents in her body carry her.

Somewhere deep, a knot in her had loosened.

-

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Liked my work? Wanna scream about it? Leave me a comment and tell me how you feel! It'll make my day. 
> 
> Also, you can totally come yell at me on Tumblr @ aeschylusrex


End file.
